


Sometimes You Let Me In (And I Take It On The Chin)

by Limestone_and_Hemlock



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dirty Talk, Except Mimi Deluca owns the Wild Pony, Fuckboy Alex, M/M, Michael's Self-Destructive Tendencies, Mild Gross Body Stuff, Mostly Canon Compliant, Mostly in the form of Michael being a presumptuous butthead, One mention of Jesse Manes, Unprotected Sex, fuckboy michael, mild dubcon, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limestone_and_Hemlock/pseuds/Limestone_and_Hemlock
Summary: Twenty-year-old Michael works a shift at the Pony, and runs into Alex. Dirty talk and angst ensue.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: 
> 
> Mild dubcon. (Michael is a bit pushy/presumptuous with Alex; he stops when Alex tells him to stop.)
> 
> References to older men non-consensually groping Michael.
> 
> Also, Alex and Michael are both huge fuckboys in this. Canonically, Michael is a fuckboy but Alex is too and I feel like we as a fandom do not acknowledge that enough.

When Michael was twenty, he sometimes picked up shifts at the Pony. Mimi owned the place, and she let him, even though he spent most of the time he was there flirting with Maria. Neither Mimi nor Maria were working tonight, though, and he was almost off the clock, and planning to drink himself under the table.

“Anything else?”

“Beer for the stoic drink of water over there,” the blandly pretty blonde behind the bar told him. “I can take it if you want.”

Michael looked in the direction she was looking and saw a dark-haired man turned ¾ of the way away from the bar. But even in the low light, and with his back to them, Michael recognized Alex’s crisp, military posture and the tension running through the muscles of his back.

“I got it, darlin’,” Michael said, taking the glass before she could ask any questions. He moved nimbly through the bar, taking the long way until he was right behind Alex’s shoulder. “Evening, Cadet,” he said, letting his voice slip into a low, seductive register.

Alex shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to sneak up on me,” he said. Alex had tucked himself into a shadowy corner nook behind one of the tiny, circular tables, presumably so no one could sneak up on him. Military recon instincts, Michael supposed.

Michael put the beer down in front of him and tried again. “So what’s a boy like you doing in a place like—”

“Don’t,” Alex said, apparently not in a flirtatious mood. There was a slight, defeated slump to his shoulders as he said it, giving Michael a hard pinch of guilt in his stomach. But he didn’t retreat.

Instead, he asked: “Can I sit?” 

Alex didn’t answer, and he didn’t break eye contact. But he did scoot a few inches to the left, which Michael took as a yes. He sat down, his knee pressing against Alex’s under the tiny table.

“Aren’t you too young to be drinking in a bar?” Michael asked.

“Aren’t you?” Alex countered.

“Drinking, yes,” Michael said. “Working, no. Anyway, all the bars in this town pay the sheriff’s department to look the other way about the whole serving-alcohol-to-twenty-year-olds thing.”

“Exactly,” Alex said. “And no one questions you when you flash military ID. Besides, it was my twenty-first birthday three days ago.”

“Oh shit. Right.”

“Yup,” Alex said, gathering all the fingers of his right hand together and then flicking them outward like he was throwing confetti over his own head.

Just as Michael inhaled to say something, Alex’s phone buzzed on the table between them. He flipped it facedown on the table, moving fast, but not fast enough to keep Michael from seeing the name lighting up the screen.

“Who’s Eric?” Michael asked.

“A friend,” Alex said, refusing to meet Michael’s eyes. “My roommate from the Airforce Academy.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked, pressing closer to Alex before going in for the kill. “Did you fuck him?”

Alex’s eyes flickered, and he didn’t say anything, which was an answer all on its own.

“Alex Manes,” Michael said, delighted that he’d guessed right and more than a little turned on. “Here I thought I was the only one who could tempt you to break the rules.”

“He was homesick,” Alex said, offering it as an excuse.

“Poor thing,” Michael said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Did he climb into your bunk to cuddle?” He let his fingers curl over Alex’s kneecap under the table. “Did he look sweet when you ordered him to his knees?”

“How did–” Alex said, before choking off the rest of the question.

“I know how much military men love following orders,” Michael said, answering the question Alex hadn’t asked. “And I know how much Manes men love giving them.”

Alex’s breath was coming harder now, and his pupils were wide and dark when he looked at Michael. Michael didn’t have to look to know Alex was hard.

“What else did you do, Cadet Manes?” Michael asked, as he slid his hand a few inches up Alex’s leg, gripping possessively with his thumb and fingers. “Did you make him suck your dick before you let him kiss you? Did you tell him to eat your ass to get you hard again? Or is that too queer for the Airforce?”

Alex’s only response was to make an involuntary, desperate noise in his throat. Michael smiled sharply and pressed close enough that his lips were almost touching Alex’s ear. Close enough that anyone who looked over at them would be suspicious at the very least, even in the low lighting of the bar. But honestly, what did Michael care if someone saw? Plenty of the middle-aged cowboys who did their drinking here looked at him with poorly-disguised longing when he brought them their whiskey. Some of them didn’t manage to keep their hands to themselves when Michael squeezed by them holding a tray or a bus box stacked with empty glasses. He would have kissed Alex right then and there, except he knew how skittish Alex was about that kind of thing.

“Had he ever been fucked in his ass before you?” Michael continued. And then, mimicking a breathy, virginal voice: “‘ _Oh God, Alex, I wanted you to fuck me since the first time I saw you, God, it’s huge, it hurts, please don’t stop._ ’”

Alex was panting now, mouth slightly open, breath coming short and sharp. “I still think about how tight you were,” He murmured, “The first time I fucked you. And the second. And the third.” He pulled in a long breath as Michael’s palm slid up the inside of his thigh.

“Come home with me, Alex,” Michael said. “I’ll let you be rough with me. Or I can boss you around for a change, if you want.” He let himself imagine it for a moment; tying Alex to his bed and climbing on top of him to ride his dick. He’d do it slow, until Alex had gone from demanding to begging, until they were both sweating and shaking…

Alex’s hand came down on top of Michael’s, a scant few inches from his erection. “Not here, Michael,” he said, voice rough with desire.

Michael looked Alex straight in the eye as he pulled his hand back, and put it flat on the table. He took his time standing up. “You know where to find me,” he said. “If you change your mind.”

Michael made it maybe ten sullen steps before a slightly tipsy girl asked him to play pool. He plastered on a smile and said, “rack em up, darlin’.” And then, as he was chalking his cue he asked, “Didn’t your mama teach you not to shoot pool with cowboys?”

Michael won thirty bucks from pool table girl, and soothed her wounded pride by buying a couple rounds of drinks, but he went home alone. He was almost asleep in his lumpy, narrow bed when a sharp knock rattled the door of his trailer.

Michael pulled on his jeans and stumbled to the door. He knew what he would see when he opened it: Alex, with that look of quasi-feral hunger that he usually kept in check. And sure enough.

Alex said nothing. Didn’t ask to come in. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, shivering in the desert night.

A different person than Michael, a prouder, more self-respecting person, would have told Alex to fuck off. Would have said, _I’m not a toy, Alex. You can’t just play with me and toss me aside whenever you feel like it._

But Michael? He grabbed a handful of Alex’s shirt and said, “Jesus, Manes, get in here.” He pulled Alex’s freezing hands out of his pockets, and held them against his own bare chest, goosebumps erupting over his neck and shoulders at the touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost Decade. PWP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:
> 
> Dubcon: They should have a safeword, but they don't. Alex (accidentally) ejaculates in Michael without explicit consent.
> 
> Unprotected Sex
> 
> High-Risk/Self-Destructive Behavior
> 
> Slut-Shaming/Anti-Sex-Worker language as part of dirty talk
> 
> Lots of angst and self-hatred

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” Michael whispered, as Alex pushed his nose into Michael’s neck, fingers digging into Michael’s chest hard enough to bruise. The feeling sent a pleasurable jolt through Michael’s abdomen: He liked when Alex bruised him.

He held Alex close in the darkness, letting Alex inhale the scent of him even though he probably smelled like bourbon and engine grease. They kissed, hard and deep, then Michael feel back a step. 

“You want anything to drink?” He asked. “I have instant coffee and whiskey, but that’s about it.” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to do this song and dance. Alex wasn’t here for coffee at dark-thirty in the morning.

“I want you to take your pants off,” Alex said. “Slowly.” He took a step back, presumably so he could watch Michael undress; Michael wasn’t wearing anything but the jeans he’d yanked on when Alex knocked.

Michael did what Alex wanted. Slowly. He unfastened his belt buckle, unbuttoned his fly, let his pants fall to his ankles and stepped out of them. He looked Alex in the eye the entire time as he did it, even though it made him blush. He’d never been with anyone else who could make him blush, and he relished the sweet, hot rush of humiliation as he stood in front of Alex, naked and hard. Something flickered in Alex’s eyes at Michael’s abject obedience.

“Touch yourself,” Alex said, voice deeper and a more military than Michael remembered. Michael swallowed, and obeyed, tipping his head back as he did. Putting on a show.

“Does it feel good?” Alex asked.

Michael nodded, making a small, affirmative noise in his throat.

“Tell me.”

“It feels so good, Alex,” Michael said. “Do you want to watch me come?”

“Tell me when you’re about to,” Alex said.

Michael stroked himself in a leisurely, steady rhythm. Let the feeling build in the base of his stomach. “ _Alex, I’m going to come_ ,” He choked out, voice tight.

Alex waited a few more endless seconds then said, “Stop.”

Michael let out a pained whimper as he did. He bit back the urge to plead with Alex. If Alex wanted to hear Michael begging, he was going to have to work for it.

Alex brushed by Michael without touching him, which Michael wouldn’t have thought was possible in a space as narrow as the trailer. Michael turned to look at him, nerves strung tight, waiting for what came next. 

Alex, still fully dressed in his uniform and boots, sat on the bed and leaned back on his hands. He let his thighs spread as he looked Michael up and down with a slight smirk.

“Come here,” he said, “and get on your knees.” Michael scrambled to obey, knees colliding with the floor. He reached for Alex’s waistband, fingers shaking with nerves and excitement.

“Wait,” Alex said.

Michael waited. Alex looked serious, almost mournful as he looked down at Michael. He ran a thumb over Michael’s bottom lip, and pushed it into Michael’s mouth. Michael closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

He reached down to touch himself again and gasped when Alex’s fingers closed in the curls at the nape of his neck, forcing his head back until his throat constricted. “Put your hands on my knees,” Alex said, pulling his thumb from Michael’s mouth. “Don’t touch yourself.”

“Why not?” Michael asked, stubborn.

Alex pulled his hair harder, and spoke, low and threatening, into the tender pulse point at the corner of Michael’s jaw. “Because I swear to God, Michael, if you come on my boots, I will make you get down on the floor and clean it up with your tongue. And I will make you stay down there until you swallow every drop of the mess you made. Until you can’t ever look at me again without tasting cum and shoe leather in the back of your throat.”

They were both panting by the time Alex got done speaking. Alex had always been bossy in bed, in a sweet, slightly unsure way, and Michael had always liked it as much as Alex did. But Alex had never been cruel before. He must have learned that in military school. And Michael hated himself a little for the dizzying rush of desire that Alex’s cruelty sent through his belly.

Alex pulled back and stroked Michael’s cheek with his free hand. Michael turned his head, pulling against Alex’s grip on his hair, to kiss Alex’s palm.

Alex relinquished his grip on Michael’s curls. Michael half-hoped that Alex would slap him across the face. He didn’t, of course; Alex wouldn’t do that unless Michael asked, and maybe not even then.

Instead he leaned back and asked, “Do you know what I want?”

Michael nodded frantically.

“Do it,” Alex said, leaning back. Michael was already unbuttoning Alex’s pants to take Alex deep into his mouth, and his throat. Maybe a little too quickly; he gagged around the heat of Alex’s cock, throat convulsing, mouth flooding with spit. He pushed past the discomfort, closing his eyes, making himself take all of it as Alex’s hands clenched in his sheets.

“ _Fuck_ go slower,” Alex said, petting Michael’s hair as Michael sucked him fast and frantic. “Don’t make me come yet.”

Michael slowed his pace, and slid Alex’s uniform pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles. He pulled back, head bowed, and licked his fingers before taking Alex into his mouth again.

He pressed his wet fingers behind Alex’s balls, and then slid them further back, brushing over Alex’s entrance. Alex gasped, stiffened, and then relaxed as Michael touched him. He didn’t push his fingers into Alex; as far as he knew, Alex didn’t let anyone do that. Still, he teased Alex with the idea of it, trailing the possibility across his senses until Alex was panting, gripping Michael’s hair and pushing himself down Michael’s throat.

Michael could taste how close Alex was when he grabbed two handfuls of Michael’s curls, pulling his head back and off. His hard cock fell wetly against Michael’s cheek. Michael nuzzled against it, opened-mouthed. Alex’s jaw clenched, and Michael half-hoped that he’d lose control right then and there, and spill himself all over Michael’s face. He didn’t, of course. The military discipline took over; Alex closed his eyes and got control of himself with a shudder.

For just a moment, when Alex’s eyes were closed, Michael saw the ghost of Jesse Manes in the tight, hard lines of his face; the austere, brutal beauty that was the Manes legacy. A pulse of genuine fear travelled through Michael’s abdomen as Alex opened his eyes.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Alex said. “I love it when you look like this.”

“Look like what?” Michael asked. He didn’t really need to ask. He knew what he looked like, and how many people wanted him because of it. (If he was good at nothing else, Michael had always been good at getting people to want him.)

“Like you’ve been sucking cock,” Alex said, pressing a thumb to Michael’s tender, bruised lips.

Michael surged up to kiss Alex hard, sending him sprawling diagonally across the narrow bed. “Take your clothes off and fuck me,” he whispered hotly into Alex’s mouth.

Alex took his clothes off slowly, letting Michael’s anticipation and desperation build. He didn’t fuck Michael right away. Instead, he put Michael on his back and gave him a torturously slow blowjob.

When Michael sucked cock, it was an act of submission. A silent plea, a way to let himself be used and humiliated. It was different when Alex did it; Michael had never felt more thrillingly helpless in his life then he did right then, pinned to the mattress by Alex’s rough fingers pressing into his belly and bare thigh, Alex’s mouth around his dick.

Alex moved up Michael’s body until they were face to face, resting his weight between Michael’s legs. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

“Shit.”

“Shit,” Alex echoed, and made a movement like he was about to roll off Michael onto his back.

“Wait,” Michael said, digging his fingers into Alex’s hip to keep him close. He reached above the bed. Picked up a half-empty container of lube and handed it to Alex. “Just do it anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asked as he took the proffered bottle.

Michael nodded frantically as Alex sat back and prepared himself. Alex grinned sharply at the anguished noise Michael made when he pushed inside. He slowed, letting Michael get used to the feeling, then pushed deeper.

“Guerin,” he said, voice deep and gravelly, “Why was the lube so close to your bed?"

“Same reason-- _Oh_ \--it was half empty,” Michael said. “I’ve been getting fucked pretty regularly.”

Michael had an inkling of what hearing that would do to Alex, and he was right. Alex huffed out a dry laugh, face halfway between a smirk and a grimace. Then he pulled out and flipped Michael onto his stomach like he weighed nothing at all. They both cried out when Alex pushed back in, too hard and too fast, the pain lighting up Michael’s nerve endings like a brush fire in a stiff wind.

“How many?” Alex growled in his ear, breath hot against his neck.

“How many what?” Michael panted, helpless and overpowered and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“How many men have you spread your legs for, Guerin?”

Michael smirked into his pillow. “Just this week, or…”

“ _Fucking whore_ ,” Alex hissed. Michael reveled in the pain, and the anticipation of lingering soreness as Alex fucked him hard and deep.

God’s truth, Michael didn’t remember how many men had fucked him. He didn’t think Alex actually cared about the number. The question was a pretext for Alex to punish him, and for Michael to let himself be punished.

Things unfolded along fairly predictable lines after that: moaning; a sheen of sweat between Alex’s chest and Michael’s back; Alex whispering endearments that sounded like threats; Michael coming, hard and hot into the sheets.

He propped himself up on his elbows and turned his head enough to look at Alex. “Does Eric fuck you like this, Private?” He asked, sweet and submissive.

Alex came hard, looking alarmed and surprised before his eyes closed and he collapsed against Michael’s back, teeth sinking into his shoulder. “ _Fuck_ , I’m sorry,” he whispered before the aftershocks had left his body.

“Don’t be,” Michael whispered, sated and sleepy. “I liked it.”

He felt Alex smile against his neck as he caught his breath. Then his teeth closed on Michael’s ear, hard enough to send a pulse of pain shivering through his body, and he whispered, tenderly, “You’re a little slut, you know that?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings:
> 
> References to unprotected sex.
> 
> Mild gross body stuff resulting from unprotected sex.
> 
> Angst turned up to 11.

When they were done, Alex rolled off Michael and started dressing in silence, like he usually did. Michael stayed where he was, on his stomach with his cheek against his pillow, slightly sore and buzzing with adrenaline, catching his breath. His neck was still tender and swollen in several places where Alex had bitten him in between whispering commands and harsh endearments against Michael’s skin.

Alex dressed fast and efficiently. Semper Paratus, Michael supposed. Or was that the Coast Guard?

He shook his tangled curls out of his face and rolled over to look at Alex, who was seated on the edge of the bed, lacing up his military-issue desert boots.

“Where’s the fire, Private?” Michael asked.

“Huh?” Alex spared him a glance as he finished tying his shoelaces.

“I’m just saying, you don’t always have to leave right away.” He put a tentative hand on Alex’s denim-covered thigh.

Alex sighed. “I think I do,” he said.

“Right,” Michael said, pulling his hand back. He shifted the sheet to cover himself, suddenly embarrassed about his nakedness and vulnerability, even though he’d been naked with Alex plenty of times.

Alex was close to the door when his phone, which had apparently fallen out of his pocket, buzzed against Michael’s hip. Semen dripped down Michael’s thigh as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Because-- _shit_ \--He’d let Alex fuck him without a condom, hadn’t he? They’d been most of the way undressed when they realized neither of them had protection. But one look at the quiet desperation in Alex’s gaze had been enough to make Michael’s head swim with desire and nostalgia and something that felt perilously close to love. And he’d said, _it’s fine, just do it anyway_ , and Alex had asked, _are you sure_ , as he pushed Michael onto the mattress.

_I’m sure_ Michael had panted. And now he was naked and cold, with a tangible reminder of his bad decision-making dripping down his leg and Alex’s phone buzzing in his hand. He looked at the name lighting up the screen and sighed, just as Alex made a questioning noise and turned toward him.

“It’s your friend Eric again,” he said, tossing the phone to Alex. “Something tells me you should call him back.”


End file.
